


love on your lips (it's just too thrilling)

by princevector



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Relationship Study, the character being oikawa mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princevector/pseuds/princevector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ cheiloproclitic ]</p><p> having an erotic attraction to a person's lips</p>
            </blockquote>





	love on your lips (it's just too thrilling)

Cheiloproclitic - having an erotic attraction to a person's lips

Iwaizumi is beautiful. 

No, it’s so much more than that. Oikawa’s known this since they were children, the observations molding and taking their own shapes as his ages from a young and curious child to a snarky young adult. Although, as he watches Iwaizumi on the court, making each serve with the same perfect (although not as perfect as himself) form that Oikawa’s been mesmerized with for years. 

(Iwaizumi is always prettier on the court than between the sheets.)

He doesn’t want to admit how attracted he is to Iwaizumi, but piercing brown eyes don’t hide lies well and Iwaizumi feels Oikawa’s gaze searing into his back, reminiscent of the times when they were still at Kitagawa and Kageyama stared at the two of them with the same intensity. Another jump serve is splendidly performed before the squelching of Iwaizumi’s sneakers parade towards the captain and Iwaizumi looks a little less than pleased.

(Oikawa’s laughing, nervously, all too nervously, but that same smile is stretched across his lips. Iwaizumi’s not sure if he absolutely hates or loves Oikawa’s expressions, but there’s that little tight frown on his face and he considers it a form of intimidation and usually, if not always, is considerably successful in driving Oikawa away.)

“You’re staring again,” He says accusatorily, tucking the volleyball under his arm so it wasn’t a distraction (because Oikawa liked to snatch the ball right out of Iwaizumi’s hands in the midst of a conversation, thus resulting in a number of… verbal arguments). “And I’m pretty sure there’s nothing on my face.

“Aaah, Iwa-chan! Of course there’s nothing on your face! That’s why girls don’t want to ask you out—“

That earns him a nice whack on the forehead, thanks in part to an incoming volleyball. A low hiss escapes his lips, and there’s a tiny part of him that thinks he deserved that, but it’s buried in the back of his mind and isn’t ever brought up through words, because it truly is amusing to see how Iwaizumi reacts to his teasing. It’s just harmless fun, right? He convinces himself.

“Where’s your sense of shame? Buried in the trash somewhere?” Iwaizumi grumbles back, his hands moving back to his hips and nails digging into the uniform’s damp fabric. He was holding back from smacking the other again, who was clearly holding back muffled laughter. Physical retaliation would do little good as Iwaizumi’s learned and so he’ll make use of his “creative language” to get by.

“You need to learn to keep comments to yourself, understand? It ain’t cute at all, even though I’m fairly certain you think so otherwise.” He walks over to the bench to grab his jacket and sling it over his shoulder. “I’m not your babysitter, so watch your own mouth!” 

There’s that glint in his eyes, the one that says ‘You know what to do’ before Iwaizumi’s walking out of the gymnasium and towards the locker room. In the back of Oikawa’s mind, that swell of excitement filled his thoughts and allowed him for another thirty minutes of practice before that invitation from his childhood friend would be gratefully accepted.

\---

Iwaizumi has beautiful lips.

The way he talks, yells, calls for a pass… Oikawa can easily admit he has an unusual fixation on his friend’s lips. Perhaps it’s more of an obsession than a fixation, he realizes, when they’re eating milk pan together and, without giving it too much thought, swipes his thumb over Iwaizumi’s lips to remove the lingering crumbs in sight. Sure, it earns him a light slap on the hand, but he knew that was absolutely worth it (“Hey, Iwa-chan’s cheeks are red!)

When Iwaizumi walks away and Oikawa is left alone to his thoughts, they could definitely be fixated on volleyball. In fact, they should have very well been all about volleyball but no, the image of Iwaizumi’s blushing face is still fresh in his mind, and he’s all giggles and amusement. Even while ignoring the growing warmth in the pits of his stomach is he still very much a child.

Perhaps it’s the way he relishes in the ridiculous rumors that plague the school. The murmurs and giggles from all the people that believe he just loves to sleep around with others is incredibly entertaining to the point where Oikawa’s nearly skipping down the school’s hallways behind Iwaizumi as they make their way back for afternoon classes. It’s where he writes down all the plans for the team and for… his time with Iwaizumi. Plans being, strange childish doodles where, for whatever reason, Oikawa loved drawing the two of them next to aliens (doodles he’ll never show to him, because he’ll be ridiculed once again! “How cruel of Iwa-chan!” He’ll whine incessantly, but won’t get an apology in response).

‘Thank goodness Iwa-chan sits next to me,’ his mind plays out the message, brown eyes flickering towards those lips that give the correct answers to the questions for today’s class. Honestly, he could he watch Iwaizumi speak all day. Listening to his friend speak was another story, because it was often him getting chewed out for playing the fool or another one of his antics, as Iwaizumi liked to call Oikawa’s actions. 

Sometimes he wonders if he sounds like some lovesick fool who’s constantly eyeing his crush, but yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing, and he’s fully aware and guilty of doing such actions. Not that he regrets any of his actions, even if he’s rudely snapped out of his trance by a book being slammed on his desk.

“Oikawa-san, next time please answer when I call on you.”

The room erupts into laughter and Oikawa really doesn’t care. There’s red dusting his cheeks but it’s mainly from the fact he just likes to laugh alongside the other people. It’s playing a game, and it’s called ‘making a fool of yourself.’ What Oikawa truly wonders if he likes embarrassing himself and there’s a part of him that probably even gets off to the sheer humiliation of it all.

He settles back into his seat and quietly wonders if Iwaizumi would ever ridicule him. A small smile tugs at his lips and there’s the half-temptation to lick his lips in delight.

That would be fun.

He leans further back into his seat; legs still spread slightly apart, fingers quietly tapping against the top of the desk. Eyes glance back to Iwaizumi, who catches his gaze and furrows his brow in that way Oikawa thinks is absolutely adorable. He mouths a “Now what?!” and what he gets in return is a flirtatious wink and a peek at the tip of his tongue in the silliest of expressions…

Which immediately falters when he hears a low growl rumble from the back of Iwaizumi’s throat and that calms him down faster than he can say “Iwa-chan!”

The once growing heat in his lower half had quickly subsided as well, never to return for the rest of afternoon classes.  
\--

Oikawa wants to taste those beautiful lips over and over again.

It’s not even a sudden realization; the very thought has been on his mind has he’s mindlessly re-watching old videos of Aobajousai’s past games. Brown eyes will occasionally flicker to the t-shirt Iwaizumi accidentally left in his room the other day, to the worn down volleyball they used to toss around when they were little, now placed comfortably on his lap. Dirt stains littered the material but that didn’t lessen its importance in Oikawa’s mind.

Calloused fingers run over every bump of volleyball, feeling years of experience underneath his touch. If this was considered pleasurable, then so be it. Oikawa loved the various materials all wound together to create this ball; it was as if he was always meant to play the sport, the sport he’s he been cherishing for half his life…

The image of Iwaizumi’s scowling face crosses his mind again. Oikawa chuckles, before gently bringing the ball up just so his lips are barely brushing the surface, and a rush of familiar scents fill his nose and he’s reminded of all the times he’s played volleyball with Iwaizumi. They’re always together, rarely apart, and it just feels right.

He turns off the video. It’s too distracting; his eyes are half-lidded from the clutches of drowsiness and he rolls onto the floor with a soft thump. Volleyball still tightly in hands, he gives it a few tosses before he lazily misses one and the amusing sphere rolls off to the side of Oikawa’s bedroom. A tilt of the head would reveal the location but he’s allowing tiredness to consume his body and instead he simply crawls on top of his unmade futon and sprawls atop the messiness of it all.

He doesn’t suppress the yawn that escapes him, tears brimming from the corner of his eyes as his vision grows blurred. When he closes his eyes, Oikawa’s world becomes dark but he opens them again and the dim light of his computer screen flashes in his eyes. He sighs; it’s a lonely sigh but he’s not sad in the slightest, or so he tells himself. He’s not a lonely king, not like Tobio is, absolutely not. It’s that he remembers the scent of the volleyball, of all the hard work he’s dedicated to the sport, and he thinks of Iwaizumi again. He recalls Iwaizumi’s scent; it’s mostly of sweat but also the faintest hint of agedashi tofu, a favorite of his. It’s a scent unique to Iwaizumi and hell, it may not be the most pleasant but it’s fitting and recognizable and oddly comforting.

Another sigh. It’s going to be a long night to himself.

\--

Iwaizumi’s too honest.

It’s a good trait, he recognizes, a trait he could certainly take up. Oikawa doesn’t though. It’s not befitting someone who’s full of fake smiles and flirtatious winks. Oikawa is dishonest unless he decides it’s time to be honest and that time is far and few between. These differences keep them close but also very far apart. In some aspects it’s a healthy, perhaps even balanced relationship.

(Iwaizumi thinks otherwise. Oikawa’s the King and he’s the King’s Keeper. It’s more than a little unsettling but he knows Oikawa better than anyone and thus can handle him properly. It’s his job to support the King and to keep him from stepping over boundaries. It also means he’s in charge of the King’s “dirty work.”)

He’ll have girls approach him with boxed lunches and love letters. Hopes are raised and quickly deflated when they ask for Oikawa and not him. He grudgingly drags the setter out of the classroom and into the small crowd of girls. It’s not the Keeper’s job to always stay by the King’s side, and he leaves Oikawa behind all while ignoring his cries for help. 

(Humiliation. It’s a game that’s almost as fun as volleyball. Not in Iwaizumi’s mind, but he has a hunch that Oikawa loves the thrill of being tossed around a bit. After all, Oikawa Tooru thrives off excitement.)

Iwaizumi doesn’t dare even make attempts in school, for he knows it will work and that will only bring secondhand embarrassment. Leaning back in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, and it’s another end to an incredibly dull afternoon class. He needs a moment, maybe two or three, before he finally catches Oikawa staring at him for what feels like the umpteenth time that day. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, but offers the first few words they share in what feels like forever (but in actuality is just a couple of hours).

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s creepy.” He shuffles papers into his schoolbag, almost hurriedly and incredibly messily and this doesn’t go unseen by Oikawa. It’s unusual for him to be this on edge and once again, Oikawa is incredibly amused by just the little things Iwaizumi does.

“Iwa-chan, I’m hurt!” He whines, playfully, and slow steps are taken to Iwaizumi’s desk. Fingers curl around the back of his chair, gripping at it, filled with tension and perhaps… excitement? Iwaizumi is thankful that he’s unable to decipher Oikawa’s little actions because otherwise his headache would have grown tenfold at this point. 

He offers quick greetings to classmates, strangers, who ultimately just want to keep their distance from the ever-popular student. Oikawa doesn’t mind, doesn’t really care either; his attention is on Iwaizumi and only Iwaizumi at the moment, who lips are curled up into a contemplative pout (he finds that absolutely irresistible—). Oikawa hums softly, offering a final wave to a group of girls before he finally falls silent.

“So, what’s on today’s agenda?”

He clicks his tongue, rewinding images of Iwaizumi’s lips through his mind several times over. Images that were on his mind throughout class, during practice, quite often, really. Oikawa’s smiling, holding back, and Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

“Am I coming over again?”

Oikawa chuckles, pats Iwaizumi’s shoulders, and offer something that’s close to a genuine smile (or so he thinks).

“Bingo.”

\--

No matter how many times his tongue slides along Iwaizumi’s upper lip, Oikawa simply cannot get enough of his childhood friend. The way he huffs, grunts, and moans a little when his calloused hands run down built muscles are all way too thrilling in Oikawa’s mind. It’s exhilarating, just like the way they spend minutes exchanging heated kisses in front of Oikawa’s computer, leaving a practice video on and left to be ignored. 

He knows.

Oikawa knows.

Volleyball is nice, but so are Iwaizumi’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> got really lazy with this rip i just wanted to experiment with oikawa
> 
> i'll get something better out eventually


End file.
